


Semper ad meliora

by Taimane



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Phillip Carlyle, Hurt/Comfort, Phillip Carlyle Needs a Hug, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimane/pseuds/Taimane
Summary: Title meaning: Always towards better things.Phillip's life is levelled after a horribly embarrassing encounter with his parents, and his old socialite acquaintances at the Winthrop's annual summer ball.





	Semper ad meliora

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains graphic descriptions of violence, detailing a suicide attempt later on.  
> I know my stories are dark at the moment, but I'm just trying to work through some stuff of my own.  
> I am okay now, but I find writing to be cathartic. What happens in this story is purely fictional, and not in the slightest based on true events.  
> However If you are reading this and need help, please contact the Samaritans on 116 123.  
> Your safety is important, and if you think this could be a trigger then please don't read on.  
> Thank you, and stay safe you lovely people <3

Dusk was settling over New York, the lights starting to slowly blink on inside dwellings. The birdsong was fading out, morphing into the sounds of crickets, and occasional flurries of bat wings. A tawny Owl sat on a branch high up in an old oak tree, which was situated in an expensive neighbourhood.  
Light stone paved the floor, and beautiful mansions sprawled across the luscious green acres. The people who lived here were of money, it was evident in every crevice of every building, fence and lamppost.  
The Tawny Owl looked across to one such house as the doors opened, and five people spilled out into the night.

The group was made up of two men, a woman, and two children. One of the men, the younger of the two, was lagging at the back, dread seeping out of every muscle.  
“Phillip! Hurry up!” laughed the older man, glancing back at his companion.  
“‘Flip, hurry! hurry!” echoed the two smaller children, grabbing Phillips arms and dragging him forwards.  
Phillip tried to dig his heels in. “Why must I come? You know my parents disowned me. They wouldn’t want me there. I’d sooner stay and house sit for you, P.T.”  
Phineas shook his head and rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Nonsense. Caroline and Helen have been looking forward to spending some time with you, haven’t you girls?”  
  
The two small children dragging Phillip down the pavement grinned with glee. “We can’t wait! You need to dance with both of us at the ball!”  
Phillip smiled fondly at the two young Barnum children. “Why, but of course.” He curtseyed, making both girls giggle and took each one under an arm. The group walked under a tree, as a Tawny Owl took flight, making Helen squeal in delight. “Look! Look! A bird daddy!”  
P.T. grinned at his daughter. “It’s a Tawny Owl, they are night creatures and hunt for their prey at dusk.” Helen blinked. “It’s gone!” she exclaimed in wonder. “They are very fast! And you never see them coming!” P.T grabbed his daughter by the waist and twirled her around in the air, her shriek sending several black birds into the night sky.

Phillip glanced over at Charity, who in turn rolled her eyes fondly at her husband, who began spinning a tale of a Tawny Owl who caused mischief and mayhem wherever he went. The story kept getting more and more extravagant, and Phillip couldn’t stop the smile sloping across his face as he listened to P.T.  
“You never get bored,” Charity said softly, startling Phillip from his thoughts. “You can say that again,” Phillip replied. “He has always been this way?”  
“Oh yes,” Charity nodded. “It’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with him. He never did let his imagination go. When we where children, we used to write letters to each other. I still have them. Some of the stories he used to write for me brought light into my darkest days, especially when I was at finishing school and I didn’t know what my future would be. He just has a way with words, the like I have never known before.” Phillip nodded in agreement.

Charity paused and turned to him. “Phillip, forgive me, but may I ask a personal question?”  
Phillip was startled, but agreed. “Of course, anything.”  
Charity’s mouth was set in a thin line, as if she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask.  
“What is it about tonight that has got you so tense? You are used to these gatherings, are you not?”  
Phillips eyes snapped to Charity’s, and he saw nothing but kindness and understanding. Perhaps it was that that made him tell her the truth, or perhaps it was her motherly tendencies towards him. All he knew was that Charity Barnum was one of the few people in the world that he could not lie too.  
  
Phillip felt his shoulders sag and he sucked in a gulp off air, letting it go through his nose. He repeated this a few times before he felt able to speak.  
“My parents know the Winthropes,” he started. “They will surely be there tonight. If they see me… I don’t know what their reaction will be. Especially my fathers. I have had no contact with them since they disowned me.” Phillip let go of the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Charity nodded in understanding. “The first time I saw my parents after I ran away with Phineas was at Jenny Lind’s concert. Yes the initial meeting was bad, but after that we were able to talk. My mother missed me the most, and they both adore the children. That fact alone made them want to include us in their lives more, and I doubt they will ever fully except Phin, but things have been less cold lately. I have to hope that things will get better with time.” Charity glanced sideways at Phillip. “You know?”  
Phillip puffed out his cheeks and looked down at his shoes. “I know. But my parents were never-”  
“Paternal?” Charity finished as Phillip nodded. “Yes, I don’t doubt most families of our class aren’t. But if you have one security blanket, it’s that this is a social gathering. From what I already know about your family, they would not dare create another scandal in such a public setting. So if you feel afraid, fall back on that and look for myself or Phineas. We are all here for you.” She took Phillips hand in hers and patted it lightly. “The evening will be over before you know it.”  
“I hope you’re right,” Phillip replied, laughing nervously.

Phillips jaw clenched as their destination loomed into view. The Winthrope’s mansion was the biggest house on the street, and they owned over 40 acres of land. Carriages had parked up outside, others were coming and going as they dropped off their passengers, all of whom dressed to the nines in their best outfits, the hum of chatter mingling with laughter and the sound of live music drifting from the open windows.  
“Come on!” Caroline squealed in delight as Helen openly gawped at the spectacle.  
P.T. took his wife arm in his own and led his family up the grand staircase and through the front porch. “Best behaviour girls,” he reminded them and they nodded in response.  
  
“Ah, The Barnum’s, so glad you could make it. And Phillip! What a lovely surprise.” Mr. Winthrop greeted them cordially, all though his gaze hardened slightly as he looked Phillip up and down. The Winthrop’s were slight people, Mr. Winthrop was dressed in an expensive three pieced suit, a pocket watch and handkerchief tucked in one breast pocket. His waist coat was a deep burgundy colour lined with gold thread, and matched his wife burgundy and gold dress. Mrs. Winthrop was a more kindly figure, with grey eyes that should have had a cold look about them, however her softer nature shone through. “So glad you could make it,” she echoed her husbands greetings. “The cloakroom is just to your right, and please help yourselves to the champagne on your left. Soft drinks are available for these delightful young women!” she laughed as Helen and Caroline curtseyed. “Thank you ma’am,” they said politely.  
“In you go now,” Mrs. Winthrop ushered them all in through to the main hall.  
  
P.T, Phillip and Charity made their way to the cloak room, Caroline and Helen holding each of their mothers hands. Charity nudged her husband and glanced over imploringly at Phillip, and she took the girls over to one side to take off their jackets. P.T got the hint and went to stand next to Phillip, who was in the queue for the cloak room. “Alright?” he said as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his partner. Phillip just nodded in response. He needed a drink. “It’ll be okay. We will stay just long enough for it to be a respectable time to leave and then we will go back to ours for some drinks. You’re welcome to stay.”  
  
Phillip gave P.T. a faint smile. “Thanks. These things just make me nervous. They remind me of my childhood, the life I’ve left behind. And my parents… I know they’ll be here. Not to mention my old college acquaintances, it’s just a lot. I’m not sure I can do it.”  
P.T. didn’t miss how Phillip described his old circle as ‘acquaintances’ rather than ‘friends.’ It spoke volumes.  
“You’ll be fine. Stick with us, we have your back.”  
“I know,” Phillip said, pushing his shoulders back and moving forward to the closet. He hung up his coat and stepped aside so P.T. could do the same, and took two small pink and blue coats from Charity. “Thanks Phillip,” she smiled at him as she straightened up Carolines dress. Coats away, P.T. clapped his hands together quietly. “Right!” he said, “Lets go and mingle,” and he lead his family to the main banquet hall. But Phillip couldn’t help but feel that he was being led into a den of wolves. He didn’t realise how right he was.

————————————————-

An hour into the party, and Phillip had found himself separated from the Barnum’s and conversing with socialites that he hadn’t seen since he had left his old life. He was on drink number three… or was it four when a young man pushed a glass of scotch into his hands and prised the empty flute glass that he was clutching like a security blanket away.  
  
The man nodded at Phillip. “So, never had you down as a runaway Circus freak Carlyle,” he stated nonchalantly as he sipped Brandy from his own tumbler. “That’s enough Eddie,” said the young woman who had been stood, staring at the mingling guests with a look of boredom. “It’s okay Clara,” Phillip said, his mouth twitching as a winked a ‘thankyou’ at her. “I’ve heard about your show, quite the spectacle.” She said, trying to break the ice. “I would love to see it someday. Those trapeze artist’s sound extremely talented. And is it true that Barnum is training lions now?”  
“Oh yes, that addition has been widely anticipated, all though I’ve tried to talk Phineas out of it-”  
“Phineas?” Eddie caught on to Phillips slip. “You are just business partners, yes?” Phillip’s skin burned in embarrassment, he had no idea why he had made the slip. He had been calling him P.T. all night, as he always did in public. It was only in private that he called him ‘Phineas.’ Phillip put it down to too much alcohol. Time to leave, he thought to himself. “Begging your pardon, it was a slip of the tongue. Too much Whiskey,” he said as he held up his glass. “And I think that it’s getting quite late, we have rehearsals tomorrow and-”  
  
“Phillip? Is that you?” Phillip stopped mid sentence, and his insides went cold. He knew that voice, he had been dreading it, knowing that they where there was one thing, conversing with them was another, and he wasn’t ready, _he wasn’t_ -  
“Phillip?”  
Phillip sighed, his shoulders taut and he turned smartly to come face to face with his parents. His mother looked apprehensive, yet pleased to see him. His fathers face however, was like thunder, but Phillip could tell that he was trying to maintain the facade of ‘prim and proper’ in present company. “Whatever brings you here Phillip? I didn’t think you mixed in these circles anymore?” his father asked, a biting tone to his voice as he took a sip from his champagne glass.  
“I’m here with the Barnum’s,” Phillip replied, “They’re somewhere…” he floundered, ‘where are you, P.T?’ he thought desperately. “More like he’s here with _Phineas_ ” Eddie cut in snidely. Phillips father looked at him sharply. “What?”  
  
“Oh yes, Phillip and _Phineas_ are very well acquainted with each other,” said Eddie “I do believe that Phillip is staying over at the Barnum’s private family residence tonight, with a personal invitation from _Phineas_ himself.”  
Everyone gathered had stopped talking, listening into the scandalous conversation. Phillips face turned beetroot red. “How did you know that?” he asked incredulously.  
“I overheard you two lovebirds talking at the cloak room.” Eddie leaned in. “I knew there must have been something else to this. Are you two fucking, leaving Mrs Barnum to look after his offspring? It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.” Eddie spat.  
“This is not true, it can’t be.” Phillips mother was white, a hand over her mouth.  
“No, Mother, Father, I would never, never- I’m not-”  
  
Everyone gasped as Mr. Carlyle raised his hand and brought it down on his son’s face with such force that Phillip went sprawling to the hard, cold marble floor.  
Blood pooled under his face from the gash that his Fathers wedding ring had left on his cheek, and his Whiskey glass smashed under his hand.  
Phillip wanted the ground to swallow him up, to never to be seen again. He couldn’t breathe, and he wanted to cry. His limbs felt heavy, and all around him he heard whispers, like angry bees surrounding him, getting louder and louder.  
  
He couldn’t get air into his lungs, his head was swimming. He stayed on the floor.  
“What on earth is going on?” he heard someone calling to him faintly, in the distance.  
“Mommy, Daddy! Phillips hurt!”  
“Phillip?”  
Phillip forced himself to ignore the whispering and stares. He kept his head down and his eyes glued to the floor as he heaved himself off the ground, his face and his left hand burning with pain. He ignored P.T. calling to him as he shoved his way past Eddie and his parents, didn’t even look at his Father as his pace quickened. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running, running through the crowds in the hall and out of the front door. He nearly tripped down the grand stone staircase that lead to the road as a cold gust of wind hit him full in the face, but he ignored it and ran, ran, ran.

Roughly an hour later, Phillip slowed down, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He felt like a thousand knives were slicing through his ribcage, shredding him from the inside. He looked down and was surprised to find blood on his shaking hands, and his crisp white dress shirt. He didn’t know where he was, but he didn’t care. His mind was blissfully blank and he carried on walking into the night. 

—————----------- 

Meanwhile, P.T. was frantic. He had gathered the Circus troupe together, after Phillip had ran away. The group listened, appalled, as P.T, then Charity filled in the blanks for them. “We need to find Phillip before he does something stupid.” P.T. stuttered, wringing his hands together. Lettie looked up sharply at this. “What do you mean Barnum?”  
  
P.T. looked wearily at his family. “You know Phillip has a co-dependancy with alcohol that is borderline unhealthy-”  
“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles muttered, and a few nodded in agreement.  
“I fear that this may tip him over the edge. He has his wallet with him, but no coat or keys to his apartment. It’s a cold night, and after what has just happened to him I can guarantee he will find the nearest watering hole to drown his sorrows. We need to find him before anything unsavoury happens to him, or he does something…. We need to find him.”  
  
Lettie nodded. “Okay, so we split into small groups, search the area. He can’t have gone far. Don’t worry Barnum, we’ll bring our boy home.” She patted her boss on the shoulder reassuringly. P.T. jerked his head and a thin smile stretched across his pale face.  
P.T’s concentration faded into one thought ‘find Phillip’ as Lettie took charge and split everyone into groups. He stood numbly in the Circus ring, until a hand patted his leg. He looked down at Charles. “We’re ready Barnum, what will you be doing?”  
P.T. looked at the troupe, all determined to succeed in their task of finding Phillip. “I’ll be coming with you. I’ll go with Anne and W.D, if that’s alright.” The Wheeler’s nodded in reply. “Alright everyone, let's go and find Phillip. See you all back here later.” Anne placed a hand on P.T’s shoulder in comfort. “We’ll get him back.”  
“I hope you’re right.” he said as, for the second time that night, he walked out into the night. 

————--------- 

Phillip had found an establishment which was situated down a back alley, where the barkeep didn’t mind serving someone covered in blood and sweat alcohol. Phillip paid the barkeep for the bottle of Irish Whiskey and tucked himself away in the back corner of the bar. He didn’t even know where he was, and he found that he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He didn’t want to know. He unscrewed the bottle and took a long, swig from it, ignoring the empty tumbler on the table.  
  
One swig turned into two and three, and before long Phillip found himself pleasantly buzzed and almost at the bottom of the bottle. He got to his feet, and had to steady himself on the table as the world swayed in protest. Somehow his body made its way to the bar, and he bought himself another bottle of Whiskey. The barkeep looked at him with mild interest this time. “Go easy, kid,” he advised as he slid the bottle across the bar towards him. “Sure, thanks.” Phillip slurred and made his way back to his seat. He just wanted to forget. The memory kept popping up in the fore front of his mind, and each time he desperately took a swig, relishing in the burning of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. He’d never been so embarrassed, so humiliated, in all his life. How would he ever be able to go out in public again? Everyone would know by now what his Father had done. He knew that there had been rumours about his strict upbringing for years, but it was completely different for people to see it, confirmed first hand. There would be no getting away from it now, it would haunt him for the rest of his life.  
  
And Eddie, Eddie had said- _was that what they all thought about him?_ He thought, taking another long gulp from the second bottle. They all thought he was queer, for running to the Circus. Because that could be the only reason that someone like him would leave the life of a Carlyle. He felt a sob creep up in his chest and he tried to drown it with more Whiskey. His lips where numb by now, and strange tingling sensations kept making their way down the side of his face. His hands shook. _What on earth was he going to do now?_ They wouldn’t want him back at the Circus, he couldn’t go back to his flat, he was hopelessly lost. His life had been levelled, completely destroyed.  
  
His chest ached, and he felt the familiar and unpleasant sensation of his bones crunching in anguish. He just wished it would stop. He was foolish to think that his happiness could last.  
A thought popped into his head, so ludicrous and unbidden that he stomped on it the second it appeared. That was a cowards way out, and Phillip was no coward. _Or are you?_ A voice in his head that sounded convincingly like his father spoke up. _You just ran away like a snivelling child because your father put you in your place. Coward._  
_No,_ Phillip thought, _I’m not_. _Yes_ , the voice replied, _yes you are. Why else would you be here, drowning yourself with alcohol? Coward, do everyone a favour and end it._  
Phillip froze, his shoulders hunched over his shivering form. _I can’t,_ he argued, but his internal voice cracked, the alcohol dulling his senses. _Well, what other choice do you have? You can’t go back.  
No,_ Phillip thought as he finished his second bottle. _I suppose I can’t._

Phillip left the drinking establishment, and after throwing the last of his money at the barkeep, managed to acquire a third bottle of Whiskey for the road. He had gone from being buzzed to absolutely smashed a long time ago. His tie hung loosely from his neck, and his suspenders hung from his waist. It was cold outside, but he barely registered it. He felt oddly at peace, now that he knew what to do. He just had to figure out how to… how… he stumbled and someone shoved him, vaguely he heard “Watch it, drunk!” and muttering as they walked away.  
  
He fell into the side alley and landed amongst what smelt like trash. With shaking hands he brought the bottle to his lips, not realising that half of it was spilling onto his shirt. He leaned into the rubbish heap and looked up at the stars. He found no beauty in them, no wonder. Something caught his eye, the moonlight was bouncing off it. With a great deal of effort he folded in on himself, clutching the bottle of Jameson’s for support, and managed to bring himself to his knees. He rummaged around, not flinching when a family of rats scarpered at the disturbance. He had definitely seen something, he thought, getting more annoyed with himself. His drunk mind just wanted to know what it- aha! He brought the object up to his face and looked at it in wonder.  
  
It was a shard of glass, and the moonlight reflecting in it winked at him, highlighting the sharp edges. Without thinking, he pressed it to his palm, curling his fingers around it and squeezing. He felt nothing, but watched, transfixed as rivets of blood ran from his hand and over the smooth glass, dripping onto his shirt. He knew what he had to do, and suddenly the chaos in his mind eased. For the first time in his life, he felt peace. He finished the last of the Whiskey and set the bottle down next to him, propped himself up against the wall, and dragged his knees to his chest.  
  
As if someone else was controlling his body, he clumsily unbuttoned his sleeves and stared at the alabaster skin. He needed to do this, he knew it would be the only way he could find some kind of absolution. No one would miss him, Anne could move on, and the Barnum’s could live their life free of scandal and without the worry off looking after him. Besides, all Phillip was to P.T. was a contact, and now that he had introduced him to everyone, his purpose was complete.  
He brought the shard of glass to his wrist, and sliced through the skin with more determination than he had ever felt in his life. He did the same on his other wrist, and let the glass fall to the dirty ground as he drifted. 

—---------------  
  
Anne shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It was a cold night, and she hated the thought of Phillip being out here, alone and sad, humiliated after what had happened at the Winthrops. _He must be beside himself_ , she stressed.  
  
“There’s a drinking den just down that alley,” P.T. said. Anne looked quizzically at him, raising an eyebrow. P.T. shook his head “Don’t ask how I know, it’s not one of my proudest moments. I’ll go in and ask the barkeep if he’s seen Phillip. You two keep looking, I won’t be long.”  
P.T. cautiously left Anne and W.D, checking every corner and making sure he was alone. This part of town was well known for its unsavoury characters, and being here even for just a short while made him uneasy. Something gnawed in his stomach, something in him knew that he had to find Phillip, quickly.  
The drinking den loomed into view, and he stepped into the building. The bar was nearly empty, not surprising considering it was three in the morning, P.T. thought to himself as he checked his pocket watch. He strode over to the barkeep, who was wiping down tables and throwing chairs onto of them, getting ready to close up for the night.  
  
“Hello my good sir,” said P.T. in way of greeting. He tipped his hat as the barkeep turned around and slung the cloth over his shoulder. “What do you want? We’re closing.” He said gruffly.  
“Oh I don’t want a drink, I won’t keep you. I was just wondering if you had seen my friend. About yay high, smartly dressed, would look out of place here. Possibly covered in blood and out of breath.” P.T. raised his hand to what was roughly Phillips height and waited for a response.  
The barkeep shrugged. “We serve a lot of wayward folk in here. Sorry, wouldn’t know your friend.”  
P.T’s shoulders sagged and he made to leave, but the business man in him just wouldn’t give in. He tried again. “Please. He would have been very distressed. He needs help.”  
The barkeep levelled his gaze at P.T, who stood his ground. “Please.”  
“Sure. Their might’ve been a guy matching that description. He left not too long ago, gave me a good tip for three bottles of Irish. Good customer.”  
P.T. Felt his heart sink to his boots. Three bottles... good _god_.  
He was jolted back to the present when a woman screamed in the distance. He ignored the barkeeps shout as he bolted, knocking several chairs over in his haste.  
P.T. ran, it sounded like Anne, but he couldn’t be sure. _God, please god_ , he thought, _let Phillip be okay_.  
  
He rounded the corner and slammed into W.D, who looked like he had seen a ghost. “Thank god, Barnum, come quickly, _Phillip_ -” W.D grabbed P.Ts arm and pulled him roughly towards another alley adjacent to the one he had just come from. “Oh Jesus,” P.T whispered. Phillip was slumped on the floor, covered in trash and blood. An empty Whiskey bottle had rolled away from his limp hand, and Anne was desperately using her shawl to try and stem the blood flow. “W.D, help me raise his arms, it’ll help clot the blood.” Her voice was strangled, as she tried to lift his arms up. P.T knelt beside her and took Phillips other hand. He patted Phillips face, to try and get him to come around. “Phillip!” He called as he leaned in closer to his friends face. Phillips eyes fluttered but didn’t open.  
  
“Phillip!” P.T tried again, slapping him harder, to no avail.  
“Has anyone called for a doctor?” He asked no one in particular.  
“W.D has just gone to find one now,” said Anne, as she ripped the material from her dress with her teeth and wrapped another layer of cloth around Phillips wrists. P.T copied her actions, taking off his tie and wrapping it tightly around Phillips other wrist. “Phillip! C’mon, let us see those blue eyes yeah?” P.T. Kept patting his friends face until he heard Phillip start to come around. “That’s it, you’re doing really well. Come back to us Phil.” Finally, after what seemed like an age, Phillips eyes opened to slits, and P.T. could see a slither of brilliant blue. “Hey, idiot,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “What were you thinking?”  
  
“-s’nt” was all Phillip could manage. “Yeah, I figured as much. Hang on ‘Flip, W.D is getting the doctor, they should be here soon. You’ll be fine.”  
“No!” Phillip shouted suddenly, as he began desperately trying to pull his hands away from Anne and W.D. “No!” He ground out again, still fighting against his friends help. “Phillip! We’re trying to help you.” P.T tightened his grip on Phillips wrist, but nothing seemed to get through to Phillip, as he renewed his struggles.  
P.T glanced wearily at Anne, who looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. P.T acted on instinct as he moved closer to Phillip, swapping his arm to his left hand and putting his right hand behind Phillips back. He pulled Phillip close to his chest, so that Phillips head was resting on his shoulder. Philip hiccuped at the movement and sudden contact. “It’ll be okay,” P.T shushed, as he ran his free hand through his friends sticky hair. “It’s okay.”  
  
Phillip tried to move his hands away again, he couldn’t let them help him. He didn’t _want_ help. He tried to lift his head but it felt like a dead weight on his shoulders. “P.T….” he mumbled, and forced his eyes open. He could see a rough outline of Anne from his position on P.T’s shoulder, but his vision was blurred, as if he had sleep in his eyes. His mouth hung open slightly and he was mortified when he realised he had been subconsciously drooling over P.Ts suit. As if he needed something else to be embarrassed about. As if sensing Phillips discomfort, he shushed him, and put a reassuring hand on the back of his neck. “It’s alright,” he said in a low voice. Phillip let his eyes drift shut as he breathed in P.Ts scent. _If this was it_ , he thought to himself, _dying wasn’t so bad_.  
Phillip heard multiple footfalls coming closer, before a hurricane of noise hit him at once. The voices were muffled, and he didn’t understand what they were saying, but he could vaguely make out Lettie and Charles, and some other voices that he didn’t recognise. He felt someone shift him carefully so that he was lying on his side, and his arms were kept elevated. The movement made his chest constrict suddenly, and he struggled to get air into his lungs. What little vision he had faded into blackness, and he let go, ignoring the voices calling his name. 

———————------

The Doctor knelt down and inspected the prone man. _It was a shame_ , he thought, this was happening more and more. Young men taking their own lives before they’ve had a chance to live.  
He looked at his patients injuries, noting that the patients two friends had done a decent job in keeping him alive. Two nurses appeared with a stretcher. “Lets get him on,” he commanded, and hurried the nurses through. They lifted the man on to the stretcher and set off for the hospital after The Doctor checked his vitals.  
“My name is Doctor Montague,” he introduced himself to the worried group. “I’ll be looking after your friend. We will take him to the main hospital, Barts, just down the road. You’ll want to go to the waiting room by ward two. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” The Doctor tipped his hat and ran after the nurses and his patient. 

The circus troupe stood numbly in silence, trying to process what had just transpired. They were all in shock.  
“We should go to the hospital.” It was Charles who broke the silence. “Does Charity know what’s happened?”  
P.T. shook his head, dazed.  
“I’ll go and send the word,” W.D. offered. He wanted desperately to stay with his sister, who looked ready to drop and was covered in her boyfriends blood, but he knew Charity would be beside herself with worry. “I’ll come with you,” said Fedor Jeftichew. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.”  
W.D. took his sisters hands and put his head to her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Be strong, for Phillip. He’s going to need you.” She nodded as large tears fell down her nose and cheeks, and down her chin onto her dress, mingling with Phillips blood. “Be safe,” she said and squeezed his hands back. The group watched as the pair ran off into the night, towards the Barnum’s mansion.  
“Right everyone, let's go to the hospital. We have a long night ahead,” P.T. wearily gathered everyone together, and lead them towards Bart’s hospital.

The hospital loomed ahead like a monster, waiting to devour all who entered. Anne hated hospitals, they made her nervous.  
They signed in at the front desk, giving the bemused clerk Phillips name and Doctor Montague’s name. She directed them towards the waiting room, where they spent the next three hours sitting, or pacing, in silence. 

————————-------

W.D. and Fedor arrived at The Barnum’s mansion just under an hour later. They raced up the front steps and knocked on the door. The family butler opened it, and let them in. “Please wait here, I’ll go and get Mrs Barnum.” He nodded and went to fetch the lady of the house.  
W.D. looked around. The house was grand, but welcoming. Touches of his boss’s eccentricity were dotted here and there, whether it was in the decor or the unusual colour choices. W.D liked it, he thought it set the place apart from the rest, like the family that resided there.  
“W.D, Fedor! What news?” Charity ran down the marble stairs and hugged both men. “Can I get you a drink, food? You must be starving.”  
W.D smiled at Charity. “I wouldn’t say no to a Brandy, if you have one, it’s been a long evening.” Fedor nodded in agreement.  
“We have some Chicken and bread left over from dinner, I’m afraid it’s not much but I can get Jackson to rustle you up something.” She pulled the top of the cut glass Brandy decanter and poured a generous helping into two matching Whiskey glasses. After she handed one to each of the two men she poured one for herself.  
W.D took a gulp from his glass, relishing in the warm thick liquid that soothed his throat and nerves. “We found Phillip,” he started. “He’s… in a bad way.”  
Charity looked up sharply at this. “I thought as much, it was awful, what his father did to him in front of everyone… how bad?”  
  
  
“He drank three bottles of Whiskey, that’s not to mention everything he drank at the party beforehand. We found him lying in the dirt in an alley. Charity… the details are… well. I’m not sure you’ll want to hear them.” His mouth was turned downwards in his unhappiness at having to bring her such terrible news.  
“Want to hear them no, but I need too. Phillip is family.” Charity spoke with such conviction that W.D found that he could not deny her.  
“He… he cut his wrists, Charity,” he choked on his words. “He’s at the hospital now, Barts.”  
Charity raised a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. “No…” she gasped, “He wouldn’t.”  
“He did,” said W.D unhappily. “We found him just in time, if we had been any later… I dread to think.”  
Charity finished the last dregs of Brandy from her glass, and the two men followed suit. “Jackson!” she called out to her Butler. “Yes Ma’am?” he appeared from the Library across the hall. “Did you hear any of that?” she asked. Jackson nodded. “Enough Ma’am.”  
Charity was already pulling on her coat and scarf. “I need to go to the hospital, I’m going to take the carriage with W.D. and Fedor. Can I entrust the children to your care for the rest of the evening? I’ll be back as soon as I know Phillip’s alright. But please don’t tell the children what’s happened, they’ll be frightened enough as it is. We will let them know in good time.”  
Jackson nodded. “Yes Ma’am, you can count on us Ma’am. I hope your friend is okay.”  
“Thank you Jackson,” she said. “So do I.” 

The carriage pulled up outside Bart’s hospital half an hour later, and the three occupants launched themselves out of the carriage doors. Dawn was just starting to break, and the birds were starting to chirp, announcing the arrival of morning. It seemed completely bizarre to Charity that earlier that evening they had been at the Winthrop’s ball.  
W.D lead Fedor and Charity up the stairs and to the waiting room, were the rest of the Circus troupe where still waiting.  
“Phineas!” Charity let out a breath as she fell into her husbands arms. She looked up at him and kissed his cheek. He looked a mess. His hair, and suit were dishevelled, and Phillips blood had dried on his hands and shirt. The bags under his eyes and lines in his white face showed that he had had no rest that evening.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly. “Hey yourself,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Any news?” P.T shook his head. “No.” He croaked. He didn’t know if it was down to his wife presence, but before he knew it, or could stop it, his shoulders were shaking and he was clutching his wife desperately as tears burned his eyes and his skin. He couldn’t stop the sobs that shook him. “It’s okay,” Charity whispered, but that only made him cry harder. He had been saying the same thing to Phillip, only hours before. But it wasn’t okay, he wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again.  
“Come and sit down,” she led him to the bench and guided him down.  
  
After a few minutes, P.T felt the tension in his head ease slightly and the sobs died down to tremors. He fumbled for his handkerchief that he kept in his breast pocket and wiped his face. “Sorry,” he apologised to his wife. Charity just smiled sadly. “You have nothing too apologise for.” Charity looked at the group. “Are you all okay?”  
The group nodded yes, but Charity knew better, they all looked like they had seen a ghost.  
“When will we hear anything?” asked Charles “It’s been hours.”  
“We’ll hear when we hear. They’re doing their best.” Lettie said, not unkindly.  
  
As if on queue, the door opened to reveal a very tired looking Doctor Montague.  
“Hello. You’ve all been waiting a very long time, so I’ll get straight to the point. For those who haven’t met me yet, I’m Dr Montague, I’ve been looking after Mr Carlyle. I’ll cut to the chase. He’s alive. We had to bring him back three times, but he’s pulled through. He’s tough, and young, which worked in his favour. He lost a lot of blood, but with glucose and re hydration the blood will regenerate. I’ve stitched him up best I can. What concerns me the most is his mental state. It may be a shock when you seen him, but I’ve had to restrain him to the bed, for his own safety. Until he can be trusted, I think it’s for the best. When he wakes up he will have one hell of a hangover, too. Once he’s well enough to leave, he’ll have to be closely monitored Twenty Four hours a day, and kept away from sharp objects, and anything he can hurt himself with. You’ll have to discuss this amongst yourselves as to whether you can cope with this, otherwise he will have to be sent to an asylum until he’s well enough to manage on his own.”  
“We’ll never let that happen,” Charity cut in sharply. “We’re his family. If we have to work in shifts we will, but he’s not going to an asylum. We don’t need to discuss it.”  
Dr Montague smiled, satisfied as he saw everyone nod in agreement. He clapped his hands together. “Now that’s out of the way, you can see him. But he does need rest, and no excitement. Try to keep him calm, he may be delirious or drifting in and out of consciousness, but that’s perfectly normal. He’s been through quite an ordeal. If you’ll follow me please.” Dr Montague opened the door and let the party file through. He lead them down two hallways and up one flight of stairs, before turning to the left and walking through a set of double doors. The ward was bright and airy, the hospital staff had tried to make the room cheery by putting up colourful paintings and flowers beside every bed. It was clean, and the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.  
One of the nurses looked up as she plumped the pillows on one of the empty beds. If she was curious about the group of oddities following the Barnum’s, she didn’t show it.  
Dr Montague stopped suddenly. “This is where I will take my leave.” He addressed the Barnum’s. “You’ll find him on the end of the row. Let one of the nurses know if you require any assistance.” 

Charity and P.T thanked the Doctor as he left the group to see their fallen friend.  
Lettie pushed Anne forward. “You three go ahead. We don’t want to startle him. We can see him when he’s stronger. Just let us know how he is.” Charity smiled thinly at Lettie, ushering Anne towards the bed that her boyfriend was occupying.  
All three gasped as Phillip came into view. He looked tired and small, tucked in the bed. His face was white and gaunt. Had he always been that thin? Anne thought. His clothes had been changed and the grime had been wiped away from his face. Thick bandages had been wrapped around his wrists, secured with safety clips. But it was the thick, leather straps securing his arms to the bed that made Anne’s heart stop in fright. She rushed towards her boyfriend and took his hand in hers.  
“What if we…. rewrite the stars… say you were made to be mine… nothing can keep us apart… you’d be the one I was meant to… find.” she hiccuped on the last word as she hummed their song softly under her breath. “Come back to me, sweetheart.” She tried to put his hand under her chin but the strap prevented the gesture. She leaned down to him instead, letting tears fall freely.  
“We will leave you both alone, we just wanted to see him.” Charity rubbed Anne’s shoulder. “We have to get back for the girls. We will come back this afternoon. Please send word if you need anything.” Anne nodded, not lifting her head from Phillips hand. “See you later.” 

Three hours later, and Anne had fallen asleep on Phillips chest, his hand still clutched in hers. W.D had found a spare chair and was currently sitting on the other side of Phillips bed. _What a mess_ , he mused, looking down at Carlyle. He never thought that Phillip would be the type to do something like that. W.D had grown fond of Phillip since the fire, there was no denying Phillips loyalty to the Circus and his sister when he went running into the fire for her, not knowing if she was even still in there. Before that… he had wrongly assumed that Phillip was like every other white socialite, and had treated him with the contempt that he had thought he deserved.  
  
W.D had been brought up on a plantation, and still remembered the days of slavery. He was grateful that his sister was too young to remember, and had a slightly more naive view of the world than he did. W.D had been wary of every white man that he came into contact with, until he got to know his boss and, eventually, Phillip better. W.D had eventually caved, and had given his blessing when Anne had told him that she wanted to accept Phillips offer of courtship. He had never seen his sister so happy before, and whilst they never strayed from the Circus tents, it was clear to a blind man that so long as they had each other, they were happy. The party at the Winthrop’s was Phillips first outing with the Barnum’s since he and Anne had gone public with their relationship.  
  
_Is this what they should expect every time they leave the tent?_ He wondered. Of course, it was worse for Phillip. It was worse for Phillip than it was for any of them, even Barnum, he could see it now. _God_ , how could he have been so blind?  
And if that was how his father treated him in public, how had he treated him privately?  
  
“I can hear you thinking.”  
W.D nearly fell out of his seat in fright.  
“Glad to see you’re awake.” W.D recovered and leaned back in his chair. “How are you feeling?”  
Phillip groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “Humiliated. Like I got hit by a horse and cart, which then reversed. Embarrassed. Did I say humiliated? _God_.”  
Phillip squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his cheeks burning. “And my _head_ is splitting.”  
  
Phillip tried to bring his hand to rub his forehead, but was startled when he couldn’t. “Wait… _what_?!” he tried to look down and saw that his wrists were tied to the bed frame with thick leather hospital straps. His breath started to come in short, sharp gasps. “Let. Me. _Out_!” he shook his arms and twisted away from the straps as much as he could, dislodging Anne who had started to wake from the noise. He used his feet to kick himself up and he tried again to twist out of the restraints, arching his back against the mattress. “Phillip! Calm down!” W.D grabbed Phillips shoulders as Anne held his head in her hands. “Look at me,” Anne said softly. “Phillip, look at me!” she raised her voice slightly as Phillip continued to struggle. “N…No! No. Please, please father! Let me out!”  
Anne and W.D looked at each other in shock, unable to process what they had just heard. Two nurses appeared from nowhere.  
“Please!” Phillip was screaming now. “I’ll be better! I’ll do better! _Let me go!_ ”  
Anne’s hands shook as she watched the nurses hold Phillip down, and two more Doctors rushed into the room. “No!” Phillip screamed “No!”  
W.D grabbed his sister and steered her away from the awful scene, Phillips screams echoing through the hall. 

————---------- 

Anne was still shaking. She had spent the last hour sobbing incoherently into her brothers shoulder. Tears stained her face, which had blotched red and white. Her eyes were bright red and sore. They were still at the hospital, but Anne couldn’t bring herself to go back into the ward. It was too much, too much to think about in one go. She didn’t even know where to begin. She wanted to slap his father into next week though. That’d be a good start. 

W.D looked up as the doors to the waiting room opened, revealing P.T and Charity, with Caroline and Helen. Anne smiled at the family blearily from her brothers shoulder. “Hey,” she croaked. “What happened?” P.T asked as they sat down next to the Wheelers. Anne sniffed. 

W.D began to tell them what had happened after Phillip had woken up, much to the Barnum’s shock. Helen and Caroline cried into their mothers coat. “Who would hurt Phillip?” sobbed Helen. “Some daddies aren’t as nice as yours.” Charity said gently, stroking Helen’s hair. “But he won’t be able to hurt him again.”  
“Can we see him?” Caroline asked timidly, looking at her parents hopefully. “Your father wants to see him first, then we will go and say hello to Phillip. I’m sure he’d love to see you both.”  
P.T, who took this as his cue to leave, stood up from the bench, stretching his arms.  
“You two girls be good for mummy. I’ll be back soon.” He kissed his wife on her cheek and ruffled his daughters hair. He nodded goodbye to the Wheelers, and made his way with some hesitancy to the ward where Phillip was staying.  
  
As P.T approached his best friends bed, he was met with less chaos than he had expected. His friend and business partner was fast asleep, still secured to the bed. P.T took a seat in the empty chair and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table. He sighed in despair as he looked at his friend. It looked like Phillip had managed to rip his bandages off, judging from the old ones which had been left in a tray at the end of his bed. A nurse came by to collect the tray shortly after he had noticed it. “Sorry,” she said, motioning to the tray. “We’ve only just got him settled. He had a bad reaction to the restraints… we were not aware of his previous…. _history_.” She said the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, scrunching up her nose in distaste.  
  
“Neither did we. He hid it very well. Some friends we are.”  
The nurse clucked. “Don’t be so hard on yourselves. You’d be surprised at what people can hide. We see all kinds come through these doors. It is sad, though. It never gets easier, seeing it. Especially when it’s a young person like Mr. Carlyle here. The Doctors are trying to work out a more suitable method to keep Mr Carlyle calm whilst he heals. The restraints will do more damage than good.”  
P.T nodded. “I am relieved that they are trying to help him. I’ll be sure to thank them.”  
The nurse patted P.T lightly on the shoulder on her way past. “Whats your name?” P.T asked. The nurse turned back to him and replied “Edith, sir.” P.T gave her an infamous Phineas Taylor Barnum grin. “Thank you, Edith.”  
Edith blushed and went back to her duties. She had heard things about Mr Barnum’s flirtatious nature, but now she had experienced it for herself, she found that she didn’t mind it at all.


End file.
